


the moment of truth in your lies

by Iceshard1011



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Good Friend, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Deceit | Janus Sanders is a Sweetheart, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Relationship, Self Confidence Issues, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, janus is somft, possibly hinted future roman/virgil/janus?, roman needs so many cuddles (as per usual), they all love each other okay, ‘roman genuinely fell for janus before he realised he was being used’ hc squad raise your hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28206816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceshard1011/pseuds/Iceshard1011
Summary: Roman doesn't think organising a movie night should be this hard. Janus isn't sure that that's the issue.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	the moment of truth in your lies

**Author's Note:**

> i’m not that unique or poetic, the title is from ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls. felt it was fitting.

His first mistake, Roman believed, was letting newfound confidence get to his head. He could consider blaming Nico, and the well-started friendship he and Thomas were gaining. If he jumped through enough hoops, he could probably blame Virgil, for his quiet support and encouragement throughout the past few weeks.

Roman didn’t want to do either of that, though. He loved Virgil, and he was quite sure he liked Nico a whole lot too. Blaming them would not be fair nor helpful. Being practical was the best option.

Roman supposed thinking that way made a lot of sense, given whose door he was standing in front of, fighting with himself to knock.

_Do it,_ he hissed at himself. _It’s not that hard._

Plus, this was _Logan,_ of all sides. More than enough times, Roman had certainly been offended and sometimes even hurt by the logical side and what he often had to say, but as of recently... Roman wrung his hands together. Roman hadn’t been a particularly dependable friend, either.

_You owe him._

The spike of guilt _that_ sent jolting through his arms propelled his hand forward to knock solidly against the door.

The door opened without much of a pause — Logan had always been organised and timely, not something that Roman could say for himself — and Roman was being looked at with mildly disguised contempt. Nothing new, there.

“Hey, Specs,” he said with a trying grin and small wave.

Logan straightened his tie. “How can I help you, Roman?” His voice was crisp. Colder than usual. Roman tried not to feel intimidated.

“I just... Well, I thought that we haven’t had a movie night in quite some time.”

Logan did not respond. Roman continued.

“And, you know, we have some popcorn that _needs_ to be eaten.”

Logan did not leap forward to correct him that popcorn kernels that were packaged to be microwaved did in fact not expire or hold a due date to be consumed.

“I also thought we could probably eat some pizza, too, because,” Roman laughed, “who doesn’t like pizza, right?”

Logan did not laugh in return. In fact, he barely reacted at all, beyond a slight, irritated twitch of his eyebrows. Roman ducked his head, then, feeling suitably chastened.

“Figured… it would have been a fun idea,” he finished in a lame mumble. He waited for Logan’s door to close, or to be frigidly turned away. Instead, there was a quiet hint of a sigh, and Roman glanced up. The logical side had lost his mask of frosty indifference, but there were still edges around his eyes that looked dangerous. His shoulders had relaxed, though, and when he met Roman’s gaze, the creative side felt a little more welcome to be talking with his friend.

“I will be downstairs at seven o’clock, then,” Logan said. Roman lit up.

“Brilliant!” he said, a little too loudly, and lowered his voice. He nodded vigorously, grinning. “See you then!”

Logan paused for a thoughtful moment, before replying, “See you then, Roman,” and closing his door with a gentle click.

Roman turned and almost happily skipped down the hallway until he realised which door he had to head to next. He swallowed back any hesitance before it could creep into his muscles and halt him in his steps, and knocked on the light blue wood.

“Coming!” called Patton’s high, cheery voice from inside. Roman wondered if he was faking again today. The moral side had reverted back to repressing a lot of his less-than-ideal feelings, especially after tension in Thomas’ mind had skyrocketed. With the majority of Thomas’ sides suffering from the current events in his life, Patton had taken on the role of being the one source of optimism and happiness again. Roman wondered if it was for everyone else’s sake or his own, at this point.

The door swung open to Patton’s beaming smile. It looked a little less force than the last time Roman had seen him. How many days ago was that?

“Oh.” Patton’s breath rushed out of him, but before his disappointment could pierce Roman, he was smiling again, tremulous, his eyes slightly shiny. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, Pat,” Roman murmured, then steeled himself. “Pizza and popcorn and movies for dinner at seven, if— if you wanted.”

Patton blinked then lit up like a Christmas tree.

_(Fitting,_ Roman thought mildly.)

“Oh, that’s a great idea, Roman!” he said, and Roman felt his heart flutter happily. He wasn’t sure if Patton hated him yet, or still, but the look he was giving Roman made him think that maybe he hadn’t completely ruined his relationship with the moral side. He smiled.

Patton leant forward for a moment, as if he wanted to hug him, but then thought better of it. Roman instinctively wanted to cry a little, at that, but the cautious but loving hand-squeeze he got in place made things a little better.

“I’ll be there,” Patton promised.

Roman nodded, stepping back once Patton let him go. “Good, then. Uh, yeah, good.” He turned to head down the hall but then paused and glanced back. Patton tilted his head imploringly. “I just, uh... good job, the other day. With, uh— when Thomas rehearsed what he was going to say to Nico, in the public bathroom.” He shrugged. “Even though... you know, he never actually got to say any of it.”

Patton looked surprised, but he recovered. His smile was gentler, this time, more genuine. “Yeah. Nico’s… Nico’s something special.”

Roman looked down and thought of sparkling eyeshadow. He hid a smile. “Yeah, he is.”

The final stop Roman had in mind before moving back downstairs to help with the construction of an epic pillow fort made Roman feel as if the floor was not beneath his feet.

He hadn’t bothered to think about trying to contact his brother. If Remus heard what was happening and wanted to join, he would anyway. It wasn’t much of Roman’s business. This whole idea had come to life when Roman had mumbled something about family nights, and Virgil, who had been lying on Roman’s bed while the creative side was splayed across the bedroom floor, had pointed out that it sounded like a great idea. This, unfortunately, only left…

Roman curled in fingers into fists to keep his hands from trembling. It didn’t work. Even as he raised a fist to knock on the door, he was quivering so much he feared it wouldn’t be loud enough.

He gritted his teeth and pushed through it, pounding on the door. The resulting gentle _thunks_ didn’t seem to match up.

The voice from inside was muffled. “The door is locked.”

Roman paused. He almost turned to head back downstairs before he wanted to smack himself in the forehead and hated both himself and Janus for it. After the handle was twisted cautiously, the door creaked open. Roman peered into the room, unwilling to go in much further. He could vaguely see Janus sitting at his desk, back turned to the door. When he heard the door open without greeting or the sound of entrance, he sighed. Roman wondered if he expected a prank from Remus.

The deceitful side stood and turned for the door, but froze when his gorgeous — no, _no_ — eyes found Roman’s face.

“You are not Patton,” he said. Roman tried to keep his expression neutral. _Sorry to disappoint,_ he thought but didn’t say. He pulled away from the door as Janus approached.

“Family movie night,” Roman said. He stared past Janus’ shoulder, unwilling to look at the expressions dancing over the deceitful side’s elegant features, or the questions in his glowing eyes. “Downstairs. Seven o’clock.”

_There,_ he told himself, and felt his rigid shoulders relax slightly. _You’ve done it._ Now he could escape back downstairs to the comfort of warm hoodies and murmured affirmations.

He didn’t get a chance to pull back.

Soft gloved fingers were curling, impossibly gently, around Roman’s own trembling hands, and the prince wanted to scream. Janus spoke, and for a moment, Roman thought he was being lied to again.

“I hope you’re angry,” Janus whispered, and Roman fought against the tremors in his hands. He wondered if Janus could feel them. He hoped not. “I hope you hate me. I hope that’s what _this,”_ he squeezed Roman’s hands, and the creative side almost collapsed, “is. I hope to Thomas that you’re not scared of me.”

Roman didn’t meet his eyes. He stared miserably at the floor, dutifully ignoring Janus’ hypnotizing gaze burning holes into his forehead. Roman wanted him to let go. He wanted Janus to look away. He wanted to curl up in Janus’ arms and never leave.

He couldn’t answer. His silence spoke for itself.

Janus let go of one of Roman’s hands. He didn’t know what the snake was doing at first until he felt the barely-there whisper of gloved fingers caressing against his cheek. He flinched away. Janus recoiled.

“Roman,” he said quietly. Roman bit his lip. “Roman, can you look at me, my prince?” Roman closed his eyes.

A shaky sigh, and those hands clasped Roman’s again. When Janus spoke again, his voice was firm, but not uncaring.

“Roman Creativity Sanders.”

Roman still went tense.

“I know I’ve wronged you. You know that you have also wronged me, albeit on a much smaller scale. I doubt there will be a day I don’t regret hurting you.” Roman swallowed the whine beginning to lodge in his throat. Janus’ voice dropped to a whisper. “No matter what happens between the mindscape, between _us,”_ Roman felt a cool forehead pressed to his, “I promise that you will never need to fear me.”

Roman’s eyelids fluttered. Janus’ breath warmed his lips. Roman worked his jaw a few times before he managed to speak.

“I fear what you’re capable of.” Roman wanted to hate how his voice cracked. He couldn’t.

Janus’ breathing shuddered painfully.

“In all honesty,” he whispered back, “me too.”

Finally, Roman opened his eyes again. He still didn’t look up. “Really?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Janus murmured. Roman sniffed, though he wasn’t sure why. Was he crying?

“I don’t want to be afraid of you,” Roman said, and it sounded like an almost-sob.

“I know,” Janus soothed. Roman had to actively fight the urge that told him to press himself against the deceitful side. “I know, darling. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my prince.”

Roman bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything else stupid. Janus rubbed his thumb along the groves in Roman’s hands. He didn’t stay composed long after that.

“I’m sorry,” Roman blurted, the words spilling from his mouth like vomit. _(That_ was a particularly Remus-like thought, he managed to realise, before it was overtaken by chants of _evil twin evil twin evil twin)._ “I’m so sorry, it’s— I—”

Janus tried to hush him, moving his hands to rub Roman’s shoulders (except his hands were still squeezing Roman’s, and how did that work?) but Roman was blabbering over him.

“It’s all my fault, everything, Thomas, Patton, I— he should have gone to the call back, but I stopped him and—”

“Roman, my dear, please—”

“It’s a gorgeous name,” Roman babbled, and Janus paused, surprised. “It’s beautiful, truly, I— _I’m so stupid—”_

“Stop that.” Janus’ tone was snappish. Roman recoiled. A third pair of pairs moved to cup his face. “This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Do you hear me?”

Roman couldn’t speak.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” Janus coaxed. “Tell me it’s not your fault.”

“I can’t,” Roman whispered.

It was silent. Roman wondered if Janus was getting sick of him, if he wanted to stop trying and go back into his room.

“Then I’ll stay with you,” murmured Janus, “until you can.” Roman trembled in his arms. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Please,” Roman whispered, and Janus ducked his head, as if trying to meet his eyes. “I mean— I— _yes,_ yes, please, I—”

Janus’ — multitude of — arms encircled him further, pulling him forward to rub at his back and comb fingers through his hair and stroke his face. He hushed and hummed, his voice vibrating through his chest where Roman had rested his forehead.

Roman didn’t know how long the hug lasted, but eventually he felt the gnawing worry of what Virgil would be thinking if he didn’t return downstairs soon.

He leant back. Janus’ arms loosened compliantly but didn’t let go completely.

“What is it, my prince?” Janus asked, rubbing Roman’s shoulders.

“I should get back to Virgil,” Roman said, but his voice was strangely hoarse. He expected Janus to recoil, or grow tense, or even for his voice to betray hints of hurt. Instead, he only gifted Roman with a gentle smile. Roman didn’t look further up than his lips.

“Of course,” Janus said. “We wouldn’t want him to panic unnecessarily.” Roman tried to smile back but failed miserably. In return, Janus ran a thumb along his jawline. “Don’t try, sweetie. It’s okay. You don’t need to lie to me.”

Roman nodded, suddenly holding back tears.

“Would you like me to stay with you?” Janus asked, and Roman couldn’t understand why he was being so kind. After what Roman had done? Why wasn’t he being yelled at, snapped, insulted, shoved away?

“Not right now,” Roman said, and had to clear his throat to try to not whisper. “But… tonight…?”

“I’ll be there.” Janus nodded. “Save me a spot,” he added with a smirk. Somehow, it didn’t make Roman feel as if he was the victim of malicious flirting.

Roman nodded back and started to back up. Janus pulled back, his fingers lingering against Roman’s for a moment before retracting completely. Roman opened and closed his mouth a few times before he realised that he didn’t actually know what he wanted to say. He turned to make for the stairs.

“Roman?” Janus called after him. He paused obediently. “I’m not being true to my function when I tell you that: your bravery astounds me.”

Roman mentally paused, then, too, taking his time to pick that apart. Once he worked it out, he turned, his eyes wide. His gaze met Janus’. He couldn’t smile, but he knew Janus could see the gratitude in his bright eyes.

Janus winked at him, and it wasn’t flirtatious or mocking and it didn’t make Roman feel like he couldn’t stand. The yellow door closed, and Roman felt like he was filled with warm sunbeams. Virgil wouldn’t ask when he returned downstairs, quieter, but in a much happier mood than having left, but he’d study Roman in the corner of his eye until he was reassured that he was alright.

And that night, if Janus arrived, a little after Logan and Patton but before Remus, and inserted himself on the couch beside Roman to idly play with his hair while Roman melted under his touch, well, no one was going to comment on it.


End file.
